


You complete and utter Basterd, Rick!

by palegingerade



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Affairs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Drunken Confessions, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flashbacks, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reunion, Spanking, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Three Years Later, canon typical homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palegingerade/pseuds/palegingerade
Summary: It's three years later and Vyvyan has moved on. Rick wants to forget too. He needs to forget. It's time to put away childish things, only some things refuse to be ignored. Vyvyan's stag night isn't the place for this!*This isn't in my usual universe so please don't confuse tags. They're not cheating on each other.*The one with lots of forbidden sex.





	1. Chapter 1

Rick studies the generous measure of fluorescence, cringing at its potency. He should drink it, he thinks. Drink it and for once try to fit in with the crowd. It'd do him good to loosen up and relax a bit more. It'd probably make him violently ill but if he can be brave enough to drink it anyway then tonight is bound to be easier to stomach.

"Oh woww. That really hits the spot, man." Gasps Neil, slamming his empty shot glass on the table in perfect sync with Mike.

"Yeah, well it's a start. A few more of these should make us go out with a bang. Bit like old times, eh lads?"

 _Lads!_ Rick scoffs to himself. This is all a bit too butch, 'laddy-locker-room' for him and he's still peering into his glass, still unsure what to do, watching the suspicious liquid changing colour under the flicker of ultraviolet strip lights. The Kebab and Calculator wasn't the only thing to have changed to his distaste over the years - not that he has much of a reason to come here anymore, even if this is still technically his local. He's still undecided whether to join in with the rounds, needing no more of a reminder that he's the wimp of the four, even after all this time.

"Bottoms up, Rick. It ain't gonna bite you. Plenty more where that came from. Ain't that right, Neil?"

"Okay, alright. Don't rush me! Just this one though. You know I don't see anything brilliant or clever in drinking.." he says, his slight speech impediment returning back from the dead to bite him firmly on the bottom. There are too many old ghosts in these walls; too many memories. He needs to make his excuses and leave before they're truly united. Before he's really confronted with his demons and before it's too late. "I can't really stay much longer anyway. I've got some important things to attend to." If waiting for the cycle of the washing machine to finish counted as more important than this pointless gathering? Very probably. Rick holds his breath and his nose, cringing again as he swallows the mouthful with a judder. He's been here for less than ten minutes but he's so out of place and he knows it already. Meeting up with his old friends from his forgotten college days - or lack of college days, is obviously a terrible mistake, especially given the circumstances. 

"Of course you can stay! What are you talking about, it's Saturday night! No work 'til Monday. Plenty of time for us to get reaquainted and get properly rat-arsed. Come on, let's enjoy ourselves for old times sake and celebrate in style."

"Oh yeah, and what style is that exactly? Joining in - in the pig-swill of filth with these neanderthals? Having a punch-up in a takeaway as we vomit a weeks worth of our wages into the gutter?!" Rick snaps, "No thank you! I'd really rather not be so juvenile if it's all the same to you, Mike. Some of us have moved on. Maybe it's time you did the same." 

He's laughed at and ignored, as usual. Enough mini stacks of coins are lined up in front of him for drinks for the next couple of hours or so as he rubs his tired eyes. 

"You're staying," Mike says with authority, "and I don't want to hear of it. No more arguments. You're going to enjoy it and be civil, the pair of you, if I have to bang both your stubborn heads together. It's a special occasion and Vyvyan isn't even here yet! You can't leave without at least saying hello."

There. There it is. The name he'd been dreading the mere mention of since Mike had rocked up at his door three days ago. It felt like weeks.

Vyvyan. 

Vyvyan Basterd, the bastard.

The violent, spiteful punk was about to explode back into his life with a vengeance and a bottle of vodka surgically attached to his gob. Rick huffs in dismay. Only Vyvyan could be so irresponsible as to be late for his own stag night, and the only person in the universe capable of already causing him grief without actually being in the room. This trip down memory lane was already a nightmare.

Could his night get any worse!

 

~

 

It's numerous rounds later when Vyvyan finally bothers to make an appearance, hand-in-hand with what Rick presumes is the infamous _Clara._ Rick mentally says the name over again. He'd heard all about _her._ Every detail. Mike had been eager to fill in the gaps. 

Clara. 

C-l-a-r-a... 

What sort of name was that anyway? Far too left-field and hippy and prim. She should be with Neil instead. She shouldn't be with...

Rick's own hands shake around his fourth glass of vodka and he watches her lean in, smearing streaks of wet lipstick on Vyvyan's cheek.

"Car keys." 

She says, and Vyvyan willingly hands over his most prized possession, just like that, as if it's nothing, and her silly grin widens like the cat who'd got the cream. 

"Thanks, babe. Have fun, boys."

 _'Have fun, boys!'_ Rick's conscious mocks immediately. The way she speaks is irritating and snotty and Rick instantly craves another drink. Anything is better than sitting in this booth, with front row seats to watch Vyvyan smooching with his girlfriend - well, his future wife.

It isn't that he's nervous about seeing Vyvyan again - even if Vyvyan's unpredictability had always set him slightly on edge. They were grown-ups now. It isn't that he's scared of being in Vyvyan's company either - even if Vyvyan had always terrified him in ways no one had ever done before. It's because Rick is unsure of what will happen now they're old enough to know better. He's unsure how to approach it all, how to talk, what to do and what to say and how to make amends. What does he even hope to gain from this? It's not like they were ever best friends, far from it. He's aware that he needs some kind of closure but for what he doesn't know. He's feeling so much at once, so many different things; so much longing and furious loathing that it's bottling up inside of him and depressurising as he stares. He feels like he could burst out of his own skin. Like the shock of seeing Vyvyan for real and in the flesh for the first time in three years: necking a pint in one go, slinging his jacket across the bench opposite and grinning manically at him is all vibrating through his muscles, simmering through his tendons and rattling his bones.

It's that this matters so unbelievably much; this moment, and her, and everything. It's the sheer, petrifying immensity of everything he's feeling and has ever felt towards Vyvyan as to why his heart is racing out of his body to the very tips of his fingers, shaking the cigarette he stuffs promptly between his lips. Every emotion smacks him square in the face as Neil returns back from the bar and sits down next to him. Everything is different now and there's nowhere left to hide. He's trapped in this seat and has no use of that cocky, rehearsed and polished veneer of overt self-confidence he used to rely on. He can't pretend any longer. Not with Vyvyan. Not after he spent so long pretending before.

"Got you a glass of water if you'd rather take it slow.."

"I'm fine actually, I don't need you to mother me, Neil!"

"You're still a barrel of laughs, I see." Vyvyan interrupts, grinning at him like the devil, his eyebrow raised expectedly like he wants Rick to engage in combat. No such luck. "Don't get so comfortable there, Neil. We've got loads of catching up to do. Mines a double, and so is his. Double vodka, no ice. C'mon Mike, line 'em up."

Vyvyan looks exactly the same, Rick notes. If a little tired. But working double shifts at the hospital was bound to take its toll. Especially after months of working nights and trying to impress the lead practitioner. Mike had been very thorough. Rick studies the indentations of the faint lines around his eyes. They're still as blue and as captivating, yet not nearly as scorned.

"Thought smoking was bad for you, Rick. Didn't you used to say?"

"I used to say a lot of things."

"Yeah and I've forgotten them all!"

Vyvyan leans in and smirks at him, flicking a long line of cigarette ash on the table as bold as blimmin' brass! God, the others had better hurry up and and come back soon.


	2. Chapter 2

"Night, Rick. Make sure Vyvyan gets home in one piece, eh?"

"Aww, do I have to!"

"Yes."

"Whhy! Why do _I_ have to do it?"

"Coz I gotta go with Neil, that's why. Think he might be a tiny bit drunk."

Mike yells after them, his arm and half of his body slung awkwardly around Neil's willowy frame, struggling to compensate the height difference. Rick rolls his eyes - which does nothing to stop the dizziness - as Vyvyan stumbles into him and sends him smack into the stone wall of the pub. He'd had more to drink than he realised, and way more than his usual three-pint maximum. "Alright, fiiine! Nighty-night. Come along now, Vyvyan." He says, rubbing his bruising elbow and addressing his so-called friend like he's scolding a wayward child. "Let's get you in a taxi and back home to your... um... Back home to your house."

"Bugger off, you ponce! It's only early."

"It's nearly midnight!'

"Exactly. Loadsa time."

Vyvyan is suddenly cackling with laughter. Rick has no idea why but as he opens his mouth to ask, a cold finger is splayed across his lips and he's spun in the direction of Neil stumbling drunkenly over the kerb. Mike is face-planting the pavement in a rather undignified fashion - his arms and legs flailing like an inebriated starfish out of water, and Rick can't help but laugh too despite being momentarily surprised; of all the things he'd expected to happen tonight, he hadn't forseen this dramatic turn of events. 

Neil and Mike helping each other off the floor present a very odd image indeed, and he understands why Vyvyan finds it so funny, but he and Vyvyan standing this close and sharing a joke together is weirder. And then Vyvyan's hand attempts to work it's way through the arm of his duffel coat, which makes this immediately ten times weirder, and better, and funnier, even if Vyvyan is only doing it to keep himself afloat.

"Keep still."

"I am keeping still! It's you who's swaying about the place."

" _You_ are! I'm not moving."

Vyvyan then fumbles his arm through his and slips his hand inside his trousers, searching for the lighter in his pocket as if it's nothing - as if this is how they naturally behave. Rick doesn't tell him it's not in there, although he very probably should before Vyvyan's search ends with his trousers ripped to shreds and in a puddle round his ankles. He's laughing harder still and desperately trying to stop himself. Vyvyan never did have any concept of personal space but of course it isn't normal for them to be linking arms outside the taxi rank like this - like any other normal, canoodling couple, coz they're not a couple. _They're NOT,_ Rick tells his alcohol infused brain as a car pulls up next to them on cue, right in the nick of time. He doesn't want to question the punks unusual friendly demeanour, however satisfying it is, and if they hang around on this street corner any longer then they'd soon be the only ones there. "Where to then?" He asks, and Vyvyan wastes no time in grabbing and twisting his grip from the taxi door.

"Pub."

"You know very well there's only the Kebab around here, Vyv, and that's closed now."

"Back to yours then - after the off-licence of course. I take it you haven't got anything in?"

"To drink?" He asks. Vyvyan nods obviously. "I've got bottle of red that I was saving for a special occasion.. not that this is a special occasion or anything but.. It's a pretty good vintage?" Vyvyan makes a face as if he'd said something deeply offensive. Rick doesn't think he has but he might have. It's possible. He's out of practice where battles of insults are concerned but some things just come flooding back to you - a bit like riding a bicycle. It's hard to break a habit like that.

"Wine?" Vyvyan scoffs, "bloody hell, Rick. What the bloody-buggery is this? A bloody outtake from the bloody-fuckering Antiques-bastard-Roadshow?"

"Vyvyan, please! How many swear words was that exactly?"

"All thoroughly deserved. We're gonna need some proper alcohol; it's my stag night!"

"Don't remind me."

"Shhh!" Vyvyan grins and shushes him again. "Wasting time. Want chips. D'ya want chips?"

"Only if you do." Rick sighs, his stomach already betraying him and growling loudly with emptiness. 

~

Between the off-licence and takeaway, they spend every last coin in their pockets; Rick is hungrier than he thought, and as they're presented with two large carrier bags of food, Vyvyan stumbles back into the night, leaving him to fetch and carry like always and lighting the wrong end of the cigarette in his mouth. 

It's spitting and Rick attempts to turn up his collar as shelter but just like the sinking feeling in his stomach and growing weight in both hands, the rain only gets heavier. Vyvyan swears and flicks the front of his hair back - the cold spray somehow in slow motion as it hits him in the face and runs slowly down his cheek.

"Hold on a sec.. Right. Sorted. After you."

Vyvyan stops to free the two litre bottle of vodka from the waistband of his jeans with a full-on wriggle of his hips. Rick doesn't want this night to end and at the same time, needs to run away. "I don't think it's such a good idea, you and I. I mean, I don't mean _you and I.._  I mean I live miles away and it's late, and there's no night bus, and erm.. What's the other reason?"

"You live right around the corner, you little liar! Five minutes tops. Couldn't bear to leave this boring old street, could ya? Come on I'm getting soaked. Best foot forward, there's a good girl."

Oh yeah. That's the other reason Rick doesn't want Vyvyan back at his place: coz Vyvyan is an annoying prick! 

He huffs in a sulk. This is all Mike's fault. All of it! Of course he'd told Vyvyan all about him too, and why wouldn't he? They were still as thick as thieves, as was clearly evident this evening. Vyvyan hadn't left Mike's side all night long, and it was just as irritating and infuriating as ever. "Why don't you go back there instead? You'd have way more fun with him. You always did!" He snaps, slurring slightly.

"What you on about?"

"Mike. I'm sure he'll be happy to talk about the good old days with you and run around after you like your slave." He says, aware that he sounds extremely bitter. He should be glad Vyvyan saw fit to keep his distance after the initial _hello._ It's not like they'd managed to accumulate many fond memories to reminisce about over the years. They were never friends, Rick reminds himself. He needs to tell it like it is and stop wishing they ever were. Vyvyan was hardly likely to want to stay in touch after this. Not now he had a life..

"Nah. I want you."

"What?!"

"You heard me. Why d'ya stop?"

"N-no reason."

"Anyway," Vyvyan continues, clearing his throat as Rick catches up. "Mike lives with his girlfriend, I see him all the time, and Neil has his other flatmates who are probably too busy getting stoned. You're the only one so pathetic you have nothing better to do."

Rick's heart both sinks and starts revving. This time he doesn't take the bait. "Fine. You can come back if you want. You're not staying long though." He says, managing to sound convincing as he wrestles the door key from his pocket and they turn off into his road. "Just until the rain stops, okay? I'm not in the mood to pick a fight with you tonight."

"Not gonna fight you, Rick."

"Well good! Then there's a first time for everything isn't there."

He eventually gets the door open and they fall into it and he really shouldn't have drunk so much, perhaps, but keeping up with the Joneses, and the Basterds, seemed a good idea at the time. It was the first time they'd done anything fun together. The first time they'd done anything at all together since they'd nearly gone over the cliff on that bus. They'd had some pretty narrow scrapes and some pretty good times over the years, and he hadn't realised, to his dismay, just how much he'd missed it. Tonight had been long overdue and really quite pleasant - even if that was only the alcohol talking. The inevitable hangover will be worth it.

They're laughing and staggering all the way up the stairs and Vyvyan stumbles into the flat, pulling his jacket off and throwing it on the floor, kicking off his boots in opposite directions. Rick does the same: launching his in the corner of the sitting room before charging into the kitchen with the vodka Vyvyan shoves towards him. "Get ice," he orders, and Vyvyan does what he says - slumping over the freezer door and nearly pulling it off its hinges. Rick takes off his suit jacket too. Too tight. And his shirt collar is too tight. And his trousers are far too..

"Hurry up, I'm gasping. Oh sod it!"

Vyvyan brings the tray over with a definite stagger and then snatches back the bottle - too impatient to wait for something as civilised as glasses - well, teacups. He takes a long drink and Rick watches intensely, surprised by how difficult it is to get the ice out when he's not paying attention. He gives up and slams the tray face down on the table, scattering ice all over the kitchen floor. "Oops," he says, steadying himself at the impact and scooping melting shards into both cups, handing the tray back to Vyvyan. 

Vyvyan takes it without hesitation. "You're drunk," he says, sounding suspiciously drunk himself, "aren't you, huh? Drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk! Never thought I'd see the day."

Rick frowns and sways as he pours out two large equal measures. "No n-not really.." Crikey, even for him that was a weak protest. Of course Vyvyan is right, probably. "Not very," he amends. "Not drunk exactly. Just a little bit.. Maybe. But not really. Not _really_ really. Anyway, you can talk. Feel like grabbing me for balance again do you? Or did you just want an excuse to hold my hand?"

"You wish, you bloody poof!" Vyvyan comes back over, picks up a mug and smashes it against his. "Cheers then. To me."

"Yeah, um, to you and Clara."

"Oh yeah. Me 'n' Clara."

"Yeah, cheers.." Rick mutters, taking a loud gulp in the hope it'd change the subject. The vodka starts cold, warms up his throat and ends cool again as the ice and alcohol take immediate effect. The contrast a bit like how he feels now: a bit all over the place, a little bit worse for wear, a bit on edge, a bit uncomfortable and a bit stupidly giddy in Vyvyan's company. He stops thinking and drinks the rest, pouring out two more despite the swirling somersaults in his stomach. The vodka will soon see to them.

He wanders through with the bottle and sits on the sofa. Vyvyan follows but doesn't join him. He looks like he's inspecting the room, scanning along the bookshelf and thumbing idly through his record collection as if he's searching for something to pick on and tease him for. Rick interrupts before he has chance. "You can light a fire if you want. Get dry.." Vyvyan turns to the fireplace like he's thinking about it, making a slightly interested sound. "And I don't mean by burning all my possessions this time, Vyv. There's coal in the scuttle."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Some of us can't afford central heating y'know. We can't all be doctors!" 

Vyvyan shrugs and throws himself down next to him, almost on top of him! The thigh of his jeans wet and warm against his leg.

"Nah. Can't be bothered. Want to eat now or wait til after?"

"After?"

"Later!" Vyvyan spits out, clearing his throat again sternly. "I meant later. After we have a drink."

"We can have a drink first if you like." Vyvyan's cheeks are pink, more than likely from coming in from the cold, and he's sat so close Rick's heart is pounding faster - hammering in his head and his ears. He suddenly has an urge to shove him away so he doesn't feel so self-conscious, like he used to do, but he can't move, and he's gripping his teacup so tight it's a wonder it hadn't disintegrated to dust. "Tell me about her then?" He asks, although he doesn't really want to know. He just needs something to take his mind off the situation. He'll just block it out and never think about it again. Just like he did whenever Vyvyan would leap over his knee for a scrap and pin him helpless on this very sofa..

"Not much to tell really," 

Vyvyan starts, slouching and draping an arm over the cushion behind him. Rick hates when he does this; it feels too much like an invitation. Obviously, it isn't an actual invitation, or maybe not so obviously? He doesn't know for sure but Vyvyan would move if Rick leant into that arm, wouldn't he? Vyvyan would say he was being soppy and girly and stupid, and then he'd probably hit him for over-stepping the line. Maybe he should try doing it anyway and find out? He'd had plenty of dutch courage. He turns to glance at Vyvyan and he looks deep in thought. Maybe he'd try it another time. "Go on.." he prompts, still watching him drink.

"We met at the hospital but I sort of knew her before. She's a friend of Mike's.."

"Of course she is." 

"What?"

"Nothing."

"She's a bit older than me.."

"I'm older than you."

"She's kind of.. sensible."

"I'm sensible!"

"Are you going to interrupt me after every bloody thing I say!"

"Sorry, go on."

"It's good coz she knows how to get inside my head when I'm angry and stuff. She helped me work a lot of things out with my mum, and she listens, y'know. No one's really listened to me before. I'd probably be an axe-murderer if it wasn't for her."

By now Rick is staring, hanging on Vyvyan's every word. "How are things with your mum?"

"Better. We're still in touch, now and again when she needs money for something. Clara said to give it time. She's talked some sense into me I think."

"I've been trying to do that for years!"

"I don't think making me so angry that I had to beat you senseless daily was much help."

"You started it!"

"At least _she_ doesn't complain when I play loud music in the morning."

"That was Neil. I used to like it when you played Ace of Spades. It meant you were in a good mood. Sometimes living alone here can be too quiet.."

"And she's not afraid to put me in my place, if you know what I mean. Always did like a challenge..."

"Okay, that's enough!"

Vyvyan shrugs and looks right at him. "You did ask."

"Yeah and I'm sorry I did!" It's suddenly way too much: the look on Vyvyan's face, the glint in his eye and the mental image that Rick had tried so hard to forget. He can't stand to listen to another word of it. He leans forward to fill up his cup, carefully trying not to spill it coz this bottle's almost empty already.

"So.." 

He almost falls off the sofa when Vyvyan pats him on the back.

"Tell me about you. Mike said you're single."

"Why?"

"Coz you're an ugly git."

"Very funny! Why did he tell you I was single?"

"It just came up in conversation. Said you'd gone through a bad break up and I had to leave you alone. So I did. He said you work in an office like a spazzy pen-pusher and you hate every minute of it, but I don't wanna know about that, s'boring. Get to the good stuff, and give us some more vodka. Did she break your heart? Cry did ya? In fact, start from the beginning and tell the whole sordid story. How did you manage to rope some poor innocent girl into a relationship with you in the first place?"

Rick reaches for the bottle again, and after the third attempt, manages to pick it up. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah." Vyvyan giggles. "You always were good for a laugh. Unless you're making this bird up to try and impress me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Why on earth would I want to impress you?" Ah! So Mike hadn't spilled _all_ the beans then. Interesting. Maybe not so interesting? Never mind. Vyvyan is so drunk his voice is soft, his eyes smiley - not angry, and if Vyvyan had wanted to hurt him then surely he'd have done so already? Rick takes another drink and long breath. "I'm telling the truth. It was real. We were together for just over four months and now we're not. Blonde. Intelligent. Totally gorgeous. We got talking on the bus coz we were reading the same book - Neitzsche, you wouldn’t know it - and we had really a lot in common: music and books and poetry and intellectual conversation, until I got dumped right out of the blue. It's okay though. It's fine now. It would never have worked coz they reminded me too much of... Well, I realised I only ever truly wanted someone else. And I probably always will. Doesn’t matter now. It's too late." Vyvyan is poised still and listening, with his drink suspended in mid-air between his mouth and where it was previously resting on his knee. Rick is staring back. Frozen.

"That's stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. S'never too late."

Rick wills himself to look away, break the hold Vyvyan's gaze has on him. He wants to be honest for a change and say, _"It is too late. I was too scared. Now you're getting married, and that means I lost."_ but he can't. "Let's leave it there, yeah? It's not important. Food'll be stone cold." He goes to stand up and sways forward, gripping Vyvyan's knee instead of the armrest. Vyvyan grabs his wrist and pulls him back down.

"Wait."

"What?" He needs to push Vyvyan away immediately. He needs to get up. HE NEEDS TO GET UP!

"In other words, you had an imaginary girlfriend and she left you coz you couldn't stop fantasising about Felicity Kendal. Honestly, Rick, tell me something I don't know! It's not still 1982. You need some new material."

"No," He says calmly, his heart now racing through his chest like a freight-train at Vyvyan's slow hand on his pulse. He'd never been good at hiding his feelings but this was hardly the right time or place. "If you really must know, I had a boyfriend called Adrian. _He_ was blonde and gorgeous and clever. But it never would have worked, because I only ever wanted you."


	3. Chapter 3

Vyvyan releases the vice-like grip on his wrist immediately and doubles over, clutching his eyes like they've been jabbed with a red-hot poker. 

There's no sound in the room whatsoever, Rick notes, except maybe the deafening decibels of regret in his head. 

"Well you did say to tell you something you don't know, didn't you? Bet you didn't know that, huh?" Rick says, shuffling awkwardly away in his seat, still staring, willing Vyvyan to do or at least say something at last, coz he is clean out of ideas.

This is exactly why he shouldn't drink alcohol, he thinks, coz his loose lips couldn't be trusted in precisely situations like this one, and he should have known better. He'd not only given away his darkest secret, he'd handed it over willingly to the one person who wouldn't have a clue what to do with it and given Vyvyan the perfect ammunition: the perfect stick to beat him with. "Please say something, Vyv," he tries, "anything."

"You like me?" Vyvyan eventually manages to mumble, " _You_ like _me?_ "

"I.. Yes. I do yes."

"You _are_ joking, right? This is a wind up? It's a joke. Oh nice one, Rick. That's a good one. A bloody good one. You almost had me there for a sec."

"N-no. Not joking. I meant it, every word. I've had relationships. Some good and some bad. All not for very long. And Adrian was nice enough, I suppose. But when it comes to you, they don't really compare. I don't think anyone ever will. I only ever wanted - really properly wanted you. Erm, I realise this is probably extremely bad timing and the wrong thing to say on your stag night. I know this isn't the right time or place, but I've always wanted to tell you. Always and I never have."

"Bad timing?! _Bad-bloody-bastarding-timing, Rick?!_ Oh if that's not the fucking understatement of the century!" Vyvyan's arms tense, his legs stiffen and his grip tightens in his hair - the full, gelled peaks now stuck rigid in the air like a troll doll. "God damn bastard bloody buggery-fuck-almighty! And don't even ask me how many swear words that was!" Vyvyan's face, and therefore his reaction, is still hidden in his hands but Rick can tell he's furious so shields his body in defence. "You have no idea. No fucking idea! Jesus Christ, Rick! You just don't get it do you?" 

Rick was starting to think he'd made a monumental error of judgement, until Vyvyan shakes his head and starts laughing uncontrollably. "What? Don't laugh at me. It's not funny! Do you think I like feeling like this? I haven’t seen you for three whole years. I don't want to feel this way. I just.. do. Three long years I've carried this.. thing. I don't expect you to care but there's no need to make fun of me."

"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at.. oh Christ. Bloody Christ!" 

Two pants of laughter, a breath and a stern clear of the throat and Vyvyan appears to regain control of himself enough to sit up. It’s almost too difficult to look at him now that Rick is, for lack of a better explanation, out of the closet about it, but he fakes his best relaxed expression. He wants to pat Vyvyan on the back, give him a soft thump on the shoulder in jest like they do - or like they used to do - but he can't. All of that seems so out of bounds now. This had gone too far and Vyvyan is something that clearly he's never going to be allowed to touch truly in the way that he wants. Because Vyvyan isn't 'his' anymore - not that he ever was. "Not going to hit me again are you?" He asks, patting Vyvyan on the knee with lightening speed. Vyvyan shakes his head but doesn't speak. He does seem slightly nervous but that is probably normal right before his wedding. Rick wouldn't know and he can't think about it, but being this close to Vyvyan had never felt this dangerous before. "I will get over it." He says, dying to soften the blow, "I have to. It's just hard. Like I said, it doesn't matter. It's fine. I didn't expect you to do.. anything." Rick's voice is soft, just like the blue of Vyvyan's eyes when he finally looks up. "It won't change our friendship." He says, not knowing if what they have could still be classed as friendship after all this time, or whether there was ever anything friendly in it from Vyvyan's perspective. It's all Vyvyan's fault anyway. He was fine until Vyvyan came along and he'd be fine right after, when he is married. 

Maybe if Rick had said something, done something about all of this before, he could have freed himself from these chains. But Vyvyan hadn't let that happen. He'd left right after college had ended, moved out and that had been that. There had been no chance for a last minute confession nor long drawn out goodbye, or _"I'll miss you,"_ or _"I love you,"_ or a, _"please don't go!"_ Vyvyan had taken that away from him by leaving unannounced, as soon as his last exam was over. And now Vyvyan is taking this away from him all over again and Rick could hate him for it, but he can't. It all crumbles down when he looks into his eyes, thinking 'I hate you' when that could never be so. "Let's eat, huh? I'm starving. Just eat. Then go and we'll forget this ever happened. Okay? I don't want to fight anymore."

"Me either." Vyvyan agrees. Smiles. "But first, do something for me?"

"Anything." He cringes, his head in a spin.

"Prove it."

"Erm, excuse me?"

"If what you're saying is real. If you _are_ bent.."

"You _can_ just say gay, it's okay. Saying 'homosexual' won't magically turn you."

"If you are indeed a big poofy, limp-wristed shirtlifter," Vyvyan continues with a grin, "and you really do have the girly hots for me, then prove it. Kiss me."

"I-I don't use those words, and you shouldn't either.." he starts and then stops. This isn't the time to be giving Vyvyan a lesson in the appropriate vernacular. In fact, this isn't an appropriate time for any part of this conversation at all.

"Do it. Come on. I'm not gonna punch you or anything. If you want me sooo much, come and give us a snog."

His mind is whirring and he's struggling to focus on Vyvyan's face, let alone his words, yet something clicks in his brain and floods to his groin when Vyvyan says the word 'snog.' He realises he's sweating under his arms and his face is probably as red as a beacon. Vyvyan is too close and looking at him with a much more normal, devious grin that momentarily snaps him out of doing it - not that he was thinking about ever doing it. "No, I will not! I hardly think that's going to do any good, and what's it going to prove exactly? We're both completely legless! I don't have to prove anything, especially to you! I know how I feel. You're unbelievable."

"So I'm right then. Well obviously, I'm right. You're all mouth and no trousers, just as I thought. I knew it. You don't have a _boyfriend!_ " 

"Ex-boyfriend." He corrects as Vyvyan sneers a little too close for comfort.

"No. Not gay; stupid. You're just stupid. You're just stupid and sad and lonely and desperate and pointless and boring!" Vyvyan drags out his last insult over-aggressively - his face twisted and pink, brow furrowed with rage, almost as if he's goading Rick into going through with it and kissing him in spite, but Vyvyan couldn’t possibly want that.. 

Could he?

No of course he doesn't want that. Vyvyan is just being mean. As usual.

Rick gets up and paces the room, kicking over what's left in the vodka bottle and tripping over the rug as he stumbles and swears. He grabs a corner cushion and kneels to scrub at the spillage, all the while grumbling a little too loudly under his breath. "I don't know why I bother. Don't you have a wife to go home to or something? Go home to your wife! Do us all a favour and run away back where you came from, coz I don't want to see you ever again." His eyes blur and he wipes them on the cushion cover. The vodka stings and it hurts and he thumps it down on the rug, more tears willing their way through his eyelashes. "Don't know why you even bothered to come back here. Haven't you done enough damage to me over the years? Leave me alone. Just LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"I came back here coz you wanted me to. Thought it'd be nice, but I'll go if you want. Thanks for the drink." 

Vyvyan places his cup on the floor and Rick watches him stand and head towards the stairs. He can't let Vyvyan snatch this away again out of his hands. He'd much rather destroy it himself. Once and for all. "What about all the food?"

"Bin it."

"W-wait!" Vyvyan turns to glance at him from the doorway. "I still want chips. D'ya want chips?"

"There's no point now, Rick. They've been left out in the cold for too long."

He gets the double meaning instantly and it winds him. He wishes Vyvyan really had punched him, coz that look on his face is far worse. "I got kebabs too. I got you a kebab.. Double donner with extra chilli sauce, no salad: your favourite."

"I don't eat that shit anymore."

"What's happened to you? You used to love that."

"Yeah well! I used to love lots of things. Clara says they're bad for you, kebabs. So.."

This doesn't sit well, for whatever reason, and Rick has to control an absolute monster of an eye-roll that's threatening to give away his disgust, but he's not giving in without a fight. Not this time. Fighting with Vyvyan is what he does best. "Stay and keep me company while I eat then. There's some really nice wine in the kitchen, and a corkscrew. Get it and sit and drink and call me every name under the sun whilst you bleed me dry. It always did make you feel better. Please.." He adds as a lone, hot tear rolls slowly down his cheek.

Vyvyan looks at him blankly for a long moment, smiles so sincerely it's almost out of character and then makes his way over to the wine rack, closely inspecting each bottle in turn and picking up easily the most expensive, blowing off the cobwebs. He certainly had great taste, in wine if nothing else. 

"Bloody hell. Some of these are older than you." Vyvyan yells from the kitchen, "you never told me your geriatric boyfriend owns a crusty old wine museum. What a loser!"

"He's not my boyfriend." Rick mouths again, quietly. He hadn't spoken about this to anyone, except briefly when it had happened at the time. Vyvyan had never mentioned it, not once, nor ever asked him how he felt about it, but that's all okay now. The memories aren't as painful and knowing Vyvyan isn't much of a talker, he keeps it short and to the point. "The wine belonged to my parents. It was what was left with their stuff when they.. you know, and I haven't had a chance or a good enough reason to drink it yet."

"Oh," says Vyvyan, placing the bottle down with what could almost be described as care. Most bottles in Vyvyan's violent embrace didn't usually get away so unscathed. "Right. Um, sorry. So you'd rather we didn't.. drink them?"

"It's okay. You can. You can drink them. You are getting married. What am I saying, we should be celebrating!" _You can celebrate,_ he thinks, _but I'm not going to._

"Okay. One disgustingly large.. pottery vase.. of some ancient old merlot coming right up. Don't you have any glasses?"

"No. Force of habit, living with you. They hurt when they get thrown at your head. Never thought to buy any." Rick is being serious but Vyvyan laughs heartily at that.

"As long as you don't blame me for your hangover in the morning."

"I wasn't aware we were seeing each other in the morning, Vyv?"

"You know what I mean. Don't get clever, dick head!" Vyvyan shoots him a grin that almost knocks him off his feet as he pulls himself back on the sofa. "I don't want you moaning that it's all my fault. Give us a cigarette - actually, make that five - and I'll stay, but I don't want to hear about your nancy boy of a boyfriend. I'm not 'opening up' and talking about my wedding colour scheme and all that crap. I'm not sharing my kebab with you, so get your beady eyes off it. I'm not holding your hand while you have a great big overreacting, teary meltdown on me, and I am _not_ going down on you, okay?"

Rick spits the dregs of vodka from his cup, coughs and giggles and wipes his chin as Vyvyan comes towards him, grasps the bottle by the neck and wrestles the cork out - his arms and bare biceps making Rick's fingers feel antsy as each of them itch to touch. "For Cliffs sake, Vyvyan, what a thing to say! I've told you a million times, he's not my boyfriend!"


	4. Chapter 4

Rick blinks and attempts to focus. There's a little too much merlot flavoured vodka in his bloodstream right now and it’s having an strange effect on his brain and his retinas. There are four kebab wrappers on the rug where there should have been two, two pizza boxes on the sofa where there should have been one, and two Vyvyans sitting opposite - both of them frowning.

"I don't really know what it is I do exactly.. " The Vyvyan's continue, each with a deep burgundy wine stain smeared round their lips, "but it usually involves running around like a crazy fucker for twelve hours a day, sometimes a great deal of chaos and blood and injury. A bit like old times.." 

"Yeah but hopefully you're not the one causing all the injuries this time, Vyv!" Rick scoffs - his witty remark ignored, as usual.

".. basically, I help examine, diagnose and treat patients who have been referred to the hospital by their GPs. Apply medical knowledge and skills to the diagnosis, prevention and management of disease... and I'm boring myself senseless talking about it."

"Get that from a textbook did you?" He asks, sloshing another swill of their second bottle down his chin.

"Something like that. Ya missed your mouth." The Vyvyan's grin, each peering at him from the rim of two identical floral vases. "Dunno how you could miss a hole that big. That's talent."

"Shuddup, I meant to. I meant to do that." He drawls, rubbing his eyes until everything becomes clear.

There's only one Vyvyan, as it turns out, and he's sat facing him - open pizza box resting between their outstretched legs, and Rick is slightly surprised to discover just how close they actually are to one another, with Vyvyan's legs resting either side of his own. Did one of them suggest this position? He can't remember. "I don't want any more, do you?" He asks, meaning the food.

"Nah. I'm stuffed,"

Vyvyan unfastens his belt and wipes his mouth and Rick's eyes automatically fall to the pile of pizza crusts in his lap. Even in the drunken state he's in, part of his brain knows he shouldn't be watching Vyvyan like this: jeans open, head thrown back, groaning with satisfaction and sucking sauce from his fingertips, but it's far too tempting and Rick can't help himself. It was beginning to dawn on him that in all this time, he hadn't moved on one bit: being around Vyvyan is still far too dangerous.

Vyvyan carries on talking about his job at the hospital and Rick takes sips from the bottle of wine, staring at the slight line of hair on his newly exposed navel. The pale fuzz disappears below the waistband of his pants as if it's teasing him on purpose, inviting him in then slamming the door in his face. He wishes he could follow it further. Run his fingers over it and trace it with his tongue. _Stop looking at his face. Stop staring at his chest and for Cliffs sake don't touch,_ he warns himself. _Stop perving. Stop perving!_

"Rick!"

"I- I wasn't!"

"Wasn't what? Where's your bathroom?"

"Oh! It's just down the hall. It's next to my, erm, it's next to my bedroom.."

"Roll me a cigarette and give us a refill. I'm dying for a slash." 

"Okay,"

Vyvyan slams the pizza box shut and flings it across the room like a Frisbee. Rick doesn't tell him off for making a mess. He'll clean it up tomorrow. He can't miss a nanosecond of this.

When Vyvyan returns, they sit silently together and Rick has to think of something to say. There's a strange atmosphere suddenly and it's as if they both know it. He needs to make sure that Vyvyan stays. "So your job then.. you're rushed off your little ginger feet all day? Doesn't sound like much fun if you ask me."

"Piss off!" Vyvyan says with a strong kick, his feet coming to rest next to his again, and as if by magic, normality returns. That was a close one. "I ain't got little feet. They're bigger than yours! And enough with the ginger, dick head."

"No they're not! They're tiny. You just wear big shoes, that's all." Rick says, lifting his leg and wriggling down to press the soles of their feet together. "Mine are way bigger. And you know what they say about big feet, don't you?" For whatever reason, his heart and his mouth seem to be betraying him too and he realises he's not in control of what's coming from either. He's confused by this for a moment and wonders what he's doing. The answer comes to him at once: 

Flirting.

He sinks into the cushions, letting the mist and blur of the wine settle his stomach, letting it dim the warning signs that flash painfully in his head. He lets the rest of the disappointment about Clara fade away and lets the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as clearly as he can, as if it had always been there. He's clearly openly and obviously flirting with Vyvyan and it's just too easy, long overdue, and way too good to stop.

"Yeah. Big feet, big girly bottom!" Vyvyan grins smugly and Rick gives as good as he gets. 

"Oh Vyvyan, if only I'd realised long ago that your ability to make conversation lay solely in moronic insults and the language of the gutter, maybe I wouldn't have liked you so much. Hardly Shakespeare is it? Hardly clever! Very uncouth."

"I don't go in for all that bollocks, you know that. And anyway, you don't like me for the size of my brain, Rick. You like me for the size of my…"

"Vyvyan!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed. You can barely tear yourself away. Your eyeballs are practically down the back of my knickers right now!"

"Yes, yes. Thank you! I'm sorry if I was, y'know.. Just you're very distracting. Anyway.." Rick trails off. "Talk about something else. Work _is_ boring, you're right." 

"Okay. What you wanna talk about?"

 _Why you never said goodbye to me._ He thinks. "Not bothered." He says. "We could switch on the radio?"

"Or we could go completely mad and put the television on? Where is your telly?"

"I don't have one."

"Then what's all your furniture pointed at?"

Rick thinks about this for longer than he should. "Dunno. Just the fireplace. I could put on one of my records? I got a new one this week. Post-punk. New Romantic, all the kids are calling it.."

"No." Vyvyan says with a tug of his trouser leg. "Sit and tell me what you do."

"What I do with what? I said no more work talk. S'boring."

"No. I mean, in bed. Poofs. What do you do in bed. Does it hurt?"

"I am _not_ talking about _that_ with _you!_ "

"Why? You embarrassed?"

"No!" Rick huffs immediately. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm just n-not gonna.. It's just private, between two people. Sacred. Not up for discussion. I'm not gonna discuss something like that.. with you. It's, erm, it's private."

"You said that." Vyvyan giggles. Rick frowns.

"Well it is! I don't want to know what you get up to in bed, or who you get up to it with! Why would I?!"

"Hmm.. if I didn't know better.." Vyvyan grabs his hands and pulls him forward, looks deep into his eyes. Rick's heart leaps as he does it and he feels the throb of Vyvyan's pulse in his pants. "Me thinks the girly does protest too much. You don't know, do you? You've never even done it before! How do you know you _are_ bent if you've never shagged a bird or a bloke."

Vyvyan holds his gaze, his twinkling eyes bloodshot and blazing, both hands locked tight to his. "Believe me, I know." By now Rick is transfixed, "In fact, I've never been more certain. The same as how you know you're straight, right?"

Vyvyan suddenly lets go and picks up his wine vase. "Right. Yeah. There you go then. You're a big queer and I'm not. Fair enough."

"Fine," he huffs. It's too late to reprimand the punk again. After living with him for two years and almost three and a half months, insults were relatively tame compared to all the damage Vyvyan could have inflicted by now if he wanted - not that Rick had been counting.

"Fine. So, you've never wanted to do it to a girl?"

"Not really. It just never.. y'know.."

"Came up, so to speak?" Vyvyan jokes and smiles. So does he.

"Something like that." 

"Well that makes sense I suppose. There has to be blood. You have to get hard. And if girls don't get you going, I get it. They're hard work."

"Yeah, kind of." Wow. Maybe Vyvyan was cool about this after all. It's a pleasant surprise until:

"So you done it up the bum yet or what?"

And Rick chokes on his wine again. "Vyvyan, _please!_ "

"What? I'm just asking. Have you or have you not had sex? Can I still call you a sissy virgin? Are you still a hopeless loser? It's a simple question innit?"

"Define sex?" Rick asks almost nervously, although this seems to stop Vyvyan in his tracks. He blushes high in his temples and Rick has to look away again.

"Oh I dunno.. Having an orgasm in the presence of another person?"

A surprisingly broad answer, Rick notes. Interesting. "Then yes. Yes I've had sex! Happy now? Can we PLEASE change the subject? Coz I think you've made this sufficiently awkward enough." He gives the foot next to his a dig with his heel and Vyvyan kicks back so Rick retaliates by stomping on Vyvyan's stomach, digging his toes in his skin. Vyvyan starts to laugh - a high-pitched giggle that Rick had never once heard from him before.

"Don't I'm ticklish, you bastard!"

"What?"

"You heard me."

" _You're_ ticklish?!" He gawks, wiggling his toes further. Vyvyan squeals, still gasping.

"Yes!"

" _You?!_ Mr. Cool, calm and collected? Mr. Serious? Mr. I-scream-like-a-little-girl-when-someone-does-this, is ticklish?!"

"Yes! And if you don't stop it right now, I'm gonna smash your teeth in!" 

"Oh really?" Rick says, giving Vyvyan his best 'seeing you laugh like this is the best thing I've ever seen in my life' smile. "Why didn't I know this before?"

"Coz I was too busy beating you up before!" Vyvyan struggles under his foot and sits up, launching himself across the small space, hauling Rick off the sofa by the collar.

"Ow!" Rick laughs, hitting his head with a smack as Vyvyan scrambles over him triumphantly. 

"Wimp!"

"That hurt!"

"No it didn't. But this might..." 

Rick howls when Vyvyan grabs his wrist and twists, giving him a ripping Chinese burn, squeezing so tight it almost rips the sleeve of his shirt clean off.

"Ha! Sorry, is that your wanking hand? Better just even the score."

Vyvyan grabs his right arm and Rick grapples for his hands. He's glad he'd taken his jacket off already because the tightness of his clothes are restricting his movements. It doesn't stop him attacking Vyvyan right back, though. His shirt comes untucked as they wrestle and that helps, but then Vyvyan gets him on his back and pins him easily with one hand, tickling him, and Rick is helpless to do anything else but laugh.

"See how you like it then, you arsehole!"

"Stop!" he begs, "stop it please! I'm gonna pee my pants," and Vyvyan takes pity on him and rolls off, both of them panting as they lie next to each other on the rug.

"Ugh. I'm a little rusty. Think you've done my back in. Christ, you've got a big bottom!"

Rick was just about to leap to his own defence but then Vyvyan reaches over, placing his hand directly on his cock and everything stops. Their laughter evaporating into a sudden, deafening silence. His cock, Rick horrifically realises, isn't as soft as it should be, and it's growing rapidly less so under Vyvyan's palm. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say or how to laugh it off, so, for an agonisingly long moment neither of them moves a muscle.

"Guess you did prove me wrong after all." Vyvyan says, propping himself up on his elbow, his other hand still palming roughly through the front of his trousers. 

"Guess I did. Hate to say I told you so, Vyv, but, ah, I.. told you so."

"Yeah. Consider me told."

"You should move.." Rick squirms - unsure if he's backing up or rocking further into Vyvyan's cupped hand. "We should move."

"Oh. Okay. So you want me to stop doing this?"

"..yes.."

"Are you sure about that? Really doesn't feel like it."

"Don't. Don't gloat."

"I'm not, I'm asking. Do you. Want me. To stop?"

"N-no. Ohh _God_ no!"

And then it happens: Vyvyan gets up and straddles him (faster than Rick would have thought him capable in his current state) pulls his hands wide above his head so they're palm to palm. And then kisses him so suddenly all of Rick's flesh erupts in a rush of spine-tingling goosebumps.

They aren't sweet, polite kisses either, like the ones he'd exchanged with Adrian - lips primly pressed together and hands loosely touching hands. Vyvyan is ravishing his mouth, all ten fingers squeezing his as he bites and licks and tastes in a frenzy, scratching his chin with hard and grating stubble and groaning wet on his tongue, and somehow Rick is doing the same despite not really knowing how to do it. It feels strangely synchronised, he thinks, each hot breath from one needing to be devoured by the other as they stop and gasp and start all over again.

It's so rough it's almost painful, and good, and getting better and hotter by the second. His hands are up the back of Vyvyan's tshirt, his nails digging into his back, and Vyvyan's are suddenly in his hair and squeezing hard, as if Vyvyan is attempting to get even more inside his head and mash their skulls together. His jaw is quivering and he can feel Vyvyan's erection through his jeans. His own is at full hardness and desperate for attention but he doesn’t want to say anything that might stop Vyvyan snogging him like this. Vyvyan must feel it too because he's pressed against him, and all Rick knows is that this is better than anything they'd ever done before. Better than arguing. Better than fighting. Better than winning, and easily more addictive.

"Hnnng God, Vyvyan!" 

He's shocked when Vyvyan groans his name too, straight into his mouth - the softness of his voice dropping like a lead weight through his stomach and tightening his balls. Vyvyan doesn't move away enough to speak clearly either. Their mouths are still clamped against each other's when Vyvyan manages to rasp,

"Clothes off!"

He secretly loves it when Vyvyan orders him around, and he must have agreed because Vyvyan is sitting up, straddling his thighs and yanking off his t-shirt before batting Rick's hands away impatiently and undoing the buttons on his chest. He can't help but flush shamelessly with arousal at Vyvyans bare torso. He'd seen it plently of times before: when he was queueing for the bathroom and Vyvyan would push in front, or in the summer holidays when they would lie out in the garden in the sun, but never like this. Never when whatever is about to happen is about to happen. He blinks a few times and stares up in awe - the full, firm weight of Vyvyan's thighs around his enough to make his cock ache with want and his mouth flood with spit.

"Come on, get em off!" Vyvyan insists, tugging at his shirt tails and Rick remembers what it is he's supposed to be doing and quickly unbuttons the cuffs. "And the rest. Pants and everything. If you really wanna do this?"

"Yeah. Yes! But you have to do it too. I want you naked."

"Fuck yeah!"

Vyvyan dismounts to wrestle himself out of his jeans, throwing them across the room with his socks and pants and Rick follows him movement for movement, wondering for a second if this actually is a good idea. _Of course it bloody is. Look at the state of him. This is everything you've ever dreamed and more. Take your pants off and shut up!_ He grins at his desperate inner monologue and stands to pull them off, balling them up with his trousers and tossing them carelessly over the sofa. He was starting to like this new, drunken side to himself. His stupid, girly conscious had no place in here tonight.

"Here!" Vyvyan commands, so Rick does as he's told and joins him back on the rug. Vyvyan climbs on him again, stark naked, and their legs entwine as Vyvyan's bare hips and hard cock press and rock on his. "Now where were we? Ah yeah, right about there." Vyvyan kisses him again. Hard. And the intimacy is startling, the feel of his soft chest hair and firm abdomen directly against his own is nothing short of perfect. "You like that? Is this what you wanted?"

Their eyes lock. Vyvyan places a hand on his jaw, and despite the fog in his head and burning craving in his hips, Rick manages to say it this time. "This is what I want. So much. Is this what you want?"

Vyvyan bites his lower lip and smiles softly, and this time when he leans down to kiss him, it isn't a surprise. The kiss quickly turns rough again. Vyvyan bites at his throat and neck, all the while doing something with the rest of his body that Rick can only describe as grinding. He doesn't dare think about it or this will very soon be over. He can hear himself gasping, though the sound is distant and slightly removed. A dazzling echo. He struggles momentarily and manages to get his hands free and they move of their own accord, drinking in the feel of Vyvyan's skin, his bare back, the warmth of his arms, the hard muscle of his arse, then Vyvyan turns them on their side, reaching out for his erection.

Rick tries to repress a shiver as Vyvyan's fist closes around him but it shudders down his back regardless. Neither of them says anything. He reaches for Vyvyan too and touches him, their eyes meeting as he does it and it feels ridiculously vulnerable. Sensitive. Good. So good. This time it's Rick who leans forward to kiss, and once again it's as though a dam bursts behind his eyes. 

By the time it ends, Rick is half on top of Vyvyan, rock hard and rubbing against him. He has no idea what he's doing but pleasure craves to be taken and he plunders into it selfishly as if he's finally the one in control. He doesn't know precisely what he wants or how he wants it, merely that he wants it, and he wants it now more than ever.

He should have known this would happen one day, or it should have happened, at least. If they'd done this from the start then all this Clara business could have been avoided - this faint thought voices itself in his mind.

Vyvyan has a leg wrapped around him. There's not enough friction but Vyvyan addresses this before he has chance. "Fuck! Tell me you have lube somewhere," he says, still suctioned onto his mouth. "Or Vaseline. Or anything."

Rick has to blink again to process what he's saying. "It's in the bedroom,” he sighs, having to concentrate on forming words harder than he should.

Vyvyan doesn't speak, just stumbles to his feet and yanks him up. They stagger around and grab each other, kissing harder as they make their way down the hallway and Vyvyan stops and slams him against the wall, a predatory light in his eyes. Rick is pinned again and kissed so hard it's angry and he throws himself into it, his nails raking down Vyvyan's back, one knee lifting instinctively so that he can thrust too.

"Lube?" Vyvyan pants more urgently, "and I don't want to disturb your prim and proper sensibilities, but if you don't want me to fuck you, you should probably say it now."

Rick kisses him again before he has chance to change his mind. "In the bedside drawer."


	5. Chapter 5

Everything is going so fast: Vyvyan's hands in his hair - squeezing and stroking, releasing as they each take turns to kiss and moan, Rick's travelling over Vyvyan's bare abdomen, so firm and warm he can't think straight. He has to slow it down and focus on each body part individually - tackle this one tickly chest hair at a time.

Vyvyan's arms are stronger than they look - especially his biceps, and the grip of them around his neck feels harder than it used to, even if Rick isn't trapped and being strangled to near-death this time. He can feel Vyvyan's pulse pounding through the wiry veins in his forearms, thudding through the long, lean muscle, beating just as wildly as his own.

They're really doing this, aren't they? They're really going to have sex..

Or does rutting against each other like this in the hall, like a couple of rabid animals, already count as sex? (No. Not couple. _They are NOT a couple!_ ) He doesn't know. He barely has any knowledge in that department for comparison. But whatever it is they're doing, it's already better than he imagined it would be, and he'd imagined doing this with Vyvyan a lot. In every way. Every day. For at least the last three years.

"No."

"Huh?" Rick pulls back. The fact that one of them has spoken and they've managed to stop snogging, however briefly, comes as quite a shock.

"You want to know if this counts as sex." 

It isn't a question. _Dammit!_ How does Vyvyan always know what's in his head? 

"The answer is no, Rick. No orgasms. No bouncing up and down on each other like a pair of ping pong balls. No sweat and no swearing, and you're still able to stand," Vyvyan grins, "so I don't think this counts as sex. I'm not gonna count this. Y'know, if you want to have a poofy strop before we get down to it and throw me out?"

"No! Why would I throw you out now? Idiot."

"Dunno. Just checking."

"Well don't!"

"Okay, bed then." Vyvyan says, staggering them backwards into his bedroom. "On the bed and lube. Now."

"Those drawers - in the drawers," Rick mumbles, failing to mention which in his somewhat addled state. Easier not to verbalise and risk Vyvyan putting him down and coming to his senses, coz he's rather enjoying being manhandled like this: Vyvyan holding him and kneading his bottom, but they can't do it like this, can they? He's going to have to suggest they both make themselves more comfortable. "I'll get it." He untangles himself dutifully out of Vyvyan's grasp and goes over to the bed, realising he's totally exposed and being watched as he withdraws the various bottles of lubricant and slams the drawer shut, arranging them for Vyvyan to choose. There are several different varieties; there's a lot to be said for always being prepared. Do they need to use a condom too? Should he ask? Is there ever a right time to query if boys really could have babies? Would he be laughed at if Vyvyan saw all the packets sitting there untouched, still in their old and yellowing cellophane? Vyvyan follows him and is suddenly right there behind him, his erection pressing against his entrance, leaving a wet smear in the place no one else had ever been. He shivers at the thought.

Vyvyan hadn't been in his bedroom for years, and never in this way, in this situation. They'd been too young and somewhat innocent, always angry, and he'd been stupid and naive and too horny and embarrassed to do anything about it back then - like most boys of that age, he supposed. But now.. Now they're fully grown men, almost. Now he's rubbing himself against Vyvyan like a desperate, cock-hungry teenager, and now it's all wrong and too late, because _now_ he's brave enough to show Vyvyan what he wants, Vyvyan is getting married. 

"No!"

"What?" Vyvyan asks, promptly removing his hands from where they're clawing at his hipbones, and Rick misses the urgent touch of them so much he wants to cry. 

To hell with all the minor imperfections of the situation, the rights and the wrongs. This _is_ right. Having Vyvyan all over him and inside him right now is the most important thing in the world, he thinks, deciding he'd done enough thinking tonight to last a lifetime. He turns to face him fully, slides his palms up the nape of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. "Nothing. Don't stop."

"Wasn't going to." Vyvyan shrugs in his arms, "but we're not doing this if I have to force you."

"You're not. I want this."

"What?"

"I said I want you to."

"What did you say?"

"Vyv, I said I WANT YOU TO! I want to do it with you."

"Pardon?"

The smirk on his lips and elevated leap of the pulse against his fingertips is enough to show Rick that Vyvyan isn't going momentarily deaf after all. He wants Rick to say it - liked it when he said it, and after all this time, Vyvyan really needs to hear the truth. Rick likes it too, of course. This is all part of their foreplay, and he should have expected something this sick and twisted would turn him on. If Vyvyan wants him to tell it like it is, then he is more than happy to oblige. It's time. "I want you." Rick repeats. "I want you in my bed, Vyvyan. And I want you in my arms, and I want you inside me now." It's a level of soppy that Vyvyan normally wouldn't be too comfortable with, but he doesn't pull away. Quite the opposite.

"Say please," 

It's whispered in his ear and Vyvyan runs his tongue along the shell of it, biting hard at his earlobe as Rick moans in mad frustration. He isn't really in the mood for pillow talk and he's so dizzy and intoxicated by all of this it's a wonder he's still conscious. At the moment, his only goal is to be fucked by Vyvyan and only Vyvyan, hard into the mattress. Rick still hates him for what he's done. He also likes him - no, he loves him. Vyvyan is his friend, his enemy, his biggest problem, and his never ending guilty pleasure. His head tingles and the room spins at the thought of this being so utterly forbidden - more off the table than it ever was before. It makes his cock stand bolt upright against his stomach. Vyvyan had always been the rule breaker, it was in his nature, and right now so was he. This was his own little slice of delicious sin. 

Their lips finally meet again after what feels like an age and Vyvyan holds him by the shoulders, shoving him down on the bed with a slam. Rick loves when he's all hard and dominant, all macho and ego. He opens his legs and gets them around Vyvyan's waist, pulling him closer, and Vyvyan takes the hint, the friction forcing them to moan and grind together. It's then he wonders how ridiculous he must look sprawled on his back, legs in the air, practically begging the punk for a shag.

It's all fumbling as they attempt to wriggle under the sheets in the dark - although not much progress is made as they pause for more grinding, more kisses, more licking and biting, and for a fleeting moment, Rick can't help but think this is rather romantic. 

The room spins again and so does he as Vyvyan scrambles over him and grabs his aching cock without a warning. 

He cries out, automatically gripping Vyvyan's hair, which is so dishevelled and messy by now he can barely get both hands in. "Bloody hell, Vyv. Easy!"

With Adrian there was always some sort of apprehension. Negotiation, at least. An _I toss you off if you toss me off_ kind of arrangement, and Adrian may have looked startlingly similar to the boy currently examining his tonsils with his tongue, but that was where the likeness ended. He knows Vyvyan isn't much of a talker but his strong fists are in a league of their own, and as much as he's dreamed and fantasised about this, Rick still isn't prepared for the eagerness of his hand. 

This is pretty great.

Blimey, this is really great!

Closing his eyes, leaning back and remembering that his walls are thin and people are sleeping, he grits his teeth and gasps at the ceiling. Vyvyan really is good with his hands, of course he is, and he's not only giving Rick the best orgasm he'd ever received in record time, but he's making it look so effortless, turning his attention instead to the cap on a bottle of lube, biting it off and spitting it across the room.

Rick moves his hands to his chest in an attempt to push him off but Vyvyan doesn't budge. "Stop. I'm gonna come." He breathes, his mouth finding it hard to form around the warning. Vyvyan lets go, pours the liquid in his palm with a debauched and loud, wet squirt and goes right back to stroking him, much harder than before.

"I know. I'm gonna make you."

Before he can protest and wriggle free, Vyvyan is led on him again, his fist tense and fast, and it's a matter of seconds before Rick is shaking and coming, mouthing as many swear words he can muster against his lips.

He's limp against the mattress when it ends and they're kissing more intensely. It's sloppy and wet and amazing and Rick can't help but join in when he feels Vyvyan grin.

"Think that counts as sex."

"You bastard." He says, both joking and meaning it.

"Yeah," Vyvyan sighs, wiping streaks of come and excess lube across his stomach. "Hope you can go again. That was fast even for a poof like you. You still wanna shag or not?" he asks, his voice thicker than usual. 

Rick swallows heavily and nods, ignoring the insult and trying to regain composure in his post-coital haze. He wonders if now is a good time for his first proper time. Or whether they should wait until they're sober? But if they were sober, Vyvyan wouldn't do this.

Would he?

No. Of course not.

Rick isn't kidding himself. He wasn't going quietly insane. This is a one time and one time only deal. The stars have aligned for once in his miserable life and he has to do this now - take what he can, for however long he gets this, because he doesn't get to keep Vyvyan. Vyvyan belongs to someone else.

Perhaps he's going through an early mid-life crisis, or one of those arty manic-depressive episodes. Hence why he's just happily agreed to being fucked into oblivion by a such a dangerous, crazed lunatic as Vyvyan - although Vyvyan doesn't feel very dangerous at the moment, all soft and sweaty in his arms.

Rick could lie like this for hours.

He doesn't think of much else when Vyvyan roughly flips him over and prods in the dark at his bottom. He can't really concentrate on anything but the surprise sensation of a finger inside him - being instantly full - yet Vyvyan's breath against his shoulder is a comfort, as is his voice: soft groans of approval that shoot straight through Rick's body to the root of his cock. There's another loud slosh and then Vyvyan adds another finger, and every noise Rick had previously been in control of comes roaring out of his throat in a yell.

"On your knees for me and bend over," Vyvyan orders, coaxing him down with his fingers. "Good boy." 

Rick bites the inside of his lip and writhes back hungrily. Vyvyan giggles and jabs a spot inside of him that makes him howl again and start to leak against his stomach. "Please!"

"What? Too much? Should say.."

"No please! Again!" 

"I will. Not with my fingers." Vyvyan's right hand slows, the other manoeuvres Rick backwards (he doesn't resist) until he's on his knees at the edge of the bed. 

"But wait I've - I've never -" he starts and stops, his eyes closing instinctively, lust sinking heavy in his stomach like a stone as Vyvyan thrusts his fingers in and out and scissors them open. It feels good, more than good, and he'd done this before, touched himself this way, never with someone else present, and never with anything larger than one finger. He's scared but even without his lowered inhibitions, he knows he would never refuse this - not ever. Not having desired it in secret for so long.

"Relax," Vyvyan tells him, his fingers twisting inside his body. He does and Vyvyan expertly locates that magic spot, pressing into it sharply, keeping the pressure there until overwhelming pleasure is throbbing through his core. "I take it you like it then?" 

"W-wha..?"

"Prostate stimulation. I am a doctor, remember?" 

Vyvyan's voice is low and slightly rough and tremors are running up and down Rick's spine. He can't wait much longer but he doesn't have to. He steadies his grip on the bed, Vyvyan stands behind him on the floor, and despite the humming desperation, it's still a lot to take when Vyvyan penetrates him. He hisses, swears, and Vyvyan pulls back and lays a slap to the fullest part of his bottom. "Did you just _spank_ me, Vyvyan?" He asks in disbelief.

"Bloody right. Just what you need."

Vyvyan slides into him in one hard thrust and Rick's vision explodes into a scream of black dots. It hurts. A lot. He wants to shout for Vyvyan to stop but his mouth just hangs open and when he turns his face in the pillow he's surprised to find he's drooling on it. He arches his back, tilting his hips down to ease some of the discomfort as Vyvyan softly gasps his name and nuzzles into his neck. 

Oh, that's new! He hadn't heard Vyvyan make that sound before.

He repeats the movement carefully, slowly tensing those muscles in turn and squeezing, and Vyvyan gasps again, his mouth going slack in his hair.

"Mmmh, Jesus, Rick!" 

The thought of making Vyvyan feel good is better than everything, and Rick instantly thinks up a dozen positions they need to try.

It's just shagging. That's all. That's all they're doing. Meaningless, no questions asked, ruddy incredible shagging, and suddenly he needs it so much faster and hard. He needs to hear Vyvyan make that noise and fall apart within him, and he must have said something to that effect because Vyvyan wastes no time in spanking him again.

"Filthy mouth on you. I'm impressed." Vyvyan groans, leaning over to nip his ear. "Patience." 

Vyvyan presses into his back, pushing him down on his front. Rick's arms are wide above his head, palms down, and Vyvyan is flush on top of him, left hand over his left hand, entwining their fingers to hold him still. Vyvyan's other hand is guiding himself in again, pushing against the pressure made tighter by the resistance of the bed. There's nowhere for Rick to move this time. It's tight, almost too tight, and he fights back the burning ache, willing himself to relax.

Alcohol and impatience have made this faster than it might have done if they were sober - but if they were sober, Vyvyan wouldn't be here and Rick wouldn't be brave enough to let him do this even if he was. 

Vyvyan gives him a moment to adjust, nothing more before he starts to ram in harder. The sensations of pleasure and pain spike back and forth, but soon the dull ache fades - surprisingly quickly, and the pain dissolves to none, turning into sparks of shivering pleasure whenever Vyvyan moans his name - so much pleasure Rick still needs to scream at the incomparable experience of it all. He can feel the heat pooling and soaking into him with every single thrust.

It's all-consuming and he burns with lust everywhere they touch. Vyvyan is laid out over him, pinning him down with his body, and Rick can’t move other than to shift his hips up slightly. _Move,_ he tries to tell him. _Harder!_

Vyvyan seems to get his wordless instructions and slams in again and again. It's still not enough to stoke up the fire within Rick, so he concentrates on tensing his muscles to keep Vyvyan right where he needs him.

Vyvyan - never content with giving Rick the last say, pulls him up on all fours again, using the better angle to drive himself against his prostate, his hips slapping against his bum. Now it's so good Rick can feel it through his entire nervous system. He's incapable of doing anything other than holding onto the headboard and remembering to breathe. When Vyvyan slides a hand around his middle to stroke his cock, it catches him off guard and he comes again unexpectedly. Vyvyan isn't long behind him with a few shallow thrusts, grasping at his hips with a soft cry and shudder. 

"Tease me like that again and next time I'll have to tie you up."

"What?"

"You bloody heard."

Did Vyvyan really just say that? 

_Next time??_

Rick is weak and his knees are trembling, and after a few more heaves of breath they both collapse face down, Vyvyan on top of him, still inside him. The strength of this orgasm has completely drained him and he feels the effects of the alcohol wash dizzily back over his head, now that he's not insatiably horny and preoccupied with other things. When he closes his eyes, the room spins again and he's so stupidly happy and tired.

After a while, he feels Vyvyan shift and pull out, but Vyvyan doesn't move away all that much so neither does he. Vyvyan is still on him, his arm and one leg draped heavily over his own, the wetness of his release warm on Rick's hip. The room and bed continue to whirl around in slow motion but Rick falls asleep anyway.

He wakes in the middle of the night - how much later he doesn't know, but it's still pitch-black outside so it can't be morning. He's alone and led on top of the covers, and for a moment he's confused. The light in the bathroom is on, he can see it from the hallway, and with a jolt he remembers: 

Vyvyan. 

Vyvyan is here. 

Rick's head is full of too many wines and vodkas so it's not the time to think very clearly about this. The toilet flushes, the tap runs briefly, the light switches off and then Vyvyan comes back. He's naked and Rick watches him without saying a word. Vyvyan goes around to the far side of the bed and gets under the sheets, which is so much of a relief that Rick can't think what to say.

"Get in here then," Vyvyan tells him, his voice still gruff from sleep.

He does as he's told, wrestling with the sheets until he's under rather than over them and finds Vyvyan in the centre of the bed. He yearns to touch him - needs to kiss him. Can he still do that?

Vyvyan immediately reaches for his cock, and it's no surprise to Rick that it's hard again. Neither of them speaks. He reaches for Vyvyan too, and after a moment of staring and rubbing each other, he shuffles down under the sheets, shoving Vyvyan on his back with no mercy. His mouth descends on Vyvyan's cock, and suddenly he's sucking and sucking, his lips tight, his tongue massaging hard at the head until Vyvyan is balling the sheets in his fists and his lower back strains off the bed - despite Rick's best efforts to hold him down. He can hear all the little noises Vyvyan is making slightly removed again, as though they're echoing around the room in stereo, being played over and over. It's the most beautiful sound, like music to his ears, soft and desperate and with so much need. Vyvyan is almost sobbing when Rick rolls his tongue up the length, slurps and sucks and makes him come in his mouth. He takes his time licking and swallows every drop.

"Whoa! You're fucking amazing at that!"

"So I've been told." Maybe not the nicest thing to say in the heat of passion, but Vyvyan doesn't flinch. Rick crawls back up his body, his forehead sweaty from the enclosed heat as he wipes his mouth. "Think that's the first compliment you've ever paid me," He says, definitely not staring at the outline of Vyvyans post-orgasm face or committing it to memory.

"No it isn't! Been telling you you're a gigantic great cocksucker for years."

"Shut up." He puts his mouth back on Vyvyan's and sticks his tongue in, pressing their tongues flat together. Vyvyan snogs him back. He doesn't object to ingesting his own semen mixed with his spit and Cliff knows how many other bodily fluids. Interesting. "What does it feel like?"

"What does what feel like?"

"Y'know.. What I just did."

"What do you think it feels like?!"

"I - I wouldn't know."

"You mean you've never had a blow job?"

"Well, no. Not really.. Not exactly. He didn't really do that stuff. And that was fine, coz there was other stuff, so.." Rick is still blushing and mumbling some sorry explanation when Vyvyan thuds him on his back and falls between his bent knees.

"Might be easier if the bloody room keeps still!" Vyvyan slurs, "but it can't be that hard. Let me see.. Don't move, okay? If you make me gag, I'll kill you!"

"O-kay.."

Vyvyan wets his hands with lube, rubs and strokes and twists and licks before spectacularly deep-throating his cock, and much sooner than he'd like, Rick is trembling again, his whole body suspended on the edge of pure electric pleasure. Watching Vyvyan like this with his head between his legs feels even more intimate than what they'd done, and he gets it now. Vyvyan is different. He _is_ special. And Rick craves him more and more with every passing second.

He doesn't remember that particular orgasm, but it wouldn't come as a surprise if Vyvyan later tells him he'd passed out.

They wake again a little later, the first light of dawn just tinting the sky orange through the curtains, and they're already rutting frantically together before either of them fully wakes. Rick comes to his senses with a start as he's held firmly in position and they moan and thrust together hard - no time for negotiation here, just urgent, primal need. 

Vyvyan squeezes his hands and pistons his hips against his hard enough to grind his bones. Rick clamps his knees around his thighs and kisses him over and over.

This time it's Vyvyan who comes first, all over his stomach, and the bedroom is filled with the heady scent of sex. Rick cannot and probably will not ever get enough of this.

This time neither of them speaks a word, falling back into a cozy, drunken sleep.

-

 

"Rick?"

"Mm?" He attempts to open his eyes but the light outside is blinding. His throat is dry and his head pounds.

"Rick!"

It's Vyvyan, more urgently.

"What?"

"You have to let me up."

"Huh?" He tries again to open his eyes and struggles, surprise peeking through them when he realises they're both naked and he's draped over Vyvyan like a heavy, boneless blanket. Not blanket exactly - tent, being a more fitting description, because Vyvyan is hard _again_ and it’s prodding in his hip.

Pain slams into the back of his skull as the memories flood in.

So much red wine.

Vyvyan. 

Oh God. 

Last night.

He'd finally had sex with Vyvyan. And then kept right on having it. 

He lifts his chin from the nook of a pale collarbone, blinks several times until Vyvyan's face becomes clear and lifts himself off, wincing. They're glued together in several places and Rick is only just remembering why. Hardly surprising when he recalls how many times in the night they'd woken the other to start all over again - touching and kissing and using their hands and mouths on each other until they were too exhausted to carry on and soaked to the bone in hot sweat. Rick leans on his side and Vyvyan quickly sits up. Rick looks at him, studies him, his head feeling as though it weighs several tonnes on the pillow. His stomach feels even worse. _Not good. This is not good!_ He thinks of Clara even though he doesn't know anything about her, and of all the other reasons why this should be a terrible mistake.

It doesn't feel like a terrible mistake. It feels so incredibly right, and that's wrong, isn't it? Extremely wrong, in fact. Spectacularly, disastrously bad. The weight of what they've done is sinking in quickly like a red wine stain on his cream carpet, too late to prevent and impossible to remove.

"Shit!" Vyvyan says, and it’s precisely what he's thinking too. "We drank a lot last night."

"Think that's the ruddy understatement of the century, Vyv." He says, echoing Vyvyan's earlier words, feeling more uncomfortable than ever if that's possible. Does Vyvyan blame him for this? Did Rick take advantage? The very idea of anyone taking advantage of Vyvyan is laughable and quite ridiculous - although Rick isn't laughing. Vyvyan had instigated this, hadn't he? "I'm sorry.." He stops, realising he has no idea what he's apologising for.

"Not your fault," Says Vyvyan, quietly. "If anything, it's mine. I wanted.. want.. wanted! Oh bollocks!"

A silence falls between them and Rick searches for something to fill it. He can't think clearly over the thump thump thump of his heart and his head, but something has to be said before its too late. He can't let Vyvyan leave again without attempting to repair this - whatever this is. "What do we do now?" he asks, nerves booting him deep in the belly.

"Dunno. Nothing."

Rick thinks maybe he should apologise again, but he isn't sorry for any of it. He isn't sorry in the slightest. Despite Vyvyan's feelings on the matter, he cannot wish it never happened. He'd loved it, and he already can't bear to let it go. "Are you going to tell Clara, or anyone?"

There's another long silence in which he swears he can hear Vyvyan's thoughts. He'd clearly forgotten all about his fiancée, which is no reason for Rick to get his hopes up just yet, coz Vyvyan was so wasted last night it's a wonder he hadn't forgotten his own name. 

"No," says Vyvyan, flatly. "We shouldn't tell anyone. We'll just have to pretend it never happened. I can't believe it did happen, even though it was.. oh bollocking shit!"

This doesn't sit well either. Perhaps Vyvyan is simply too hungover to discuss it in a civilised and grown up fashion, but Rick still doesn't like it. "Vyv?" He wants Vyvyan to look at him like he did last night, as if he is the sexiest and most desirable human being on the planet, and it's not easy to communicate with Vyvyan at the best of times, especially now when his back is turned and all Rick can think about is licking it. 

Once again, Vyvyan reads his mind. He glances over his shoulder, his expression blank as if he's trying to fight an unspoken understanding, then he simply says, 

"I know."

This hurts more than any punch in the face. Rick's chest is aching from the need to throw his arms around him and hold him, but he's not allowed. DAMMIT, HE'S NOT ALLOWED! Despite the pain, he knows he's not allowed to argue about this either. Vyvyan is the prize he cannot win, and that's the stupid reality. He sits up too and yanks off the covers, wondering if Vyvyan will still want to be his friend if nothing more. He should do well to prepare himself for that painful rejection too. "You should go," he says and Vyvyan nods.

Vyvyan makes no attempt to hide his modesty when he goes to find his clothes. Rick's eyes linger on his flagging erection, focusing shamelessly on his arse as he leaves. It's still the best arse he's ever seen and that makes him smile a little. Some things never change.

He gets up and goes to pull on his silk dressing gown, peeling it gingerly off the perfect silhouette of Vyvyan's palm on his bottom (oh that slap!) and he notes that he's unsteady on his feet, as if his brain is soaked in vodka like a sponge as he sways down the hallway grabbing hold of both walls.

Vyvyan is fastening his belt in the drawing room, still shirtless, and there are two sets of bruising teeth marks on his neck. "Erm, would you like to borrow a scarf or something?"

"Why? It's not cold."

"No, to cover the.." he gestures at his own throat and winces again. Vyvyan leans into the mirror on the chimney breast and sighs.

"Fuck sake, Rick! You've made a right mess of me."

"Sorry." He says again. Another lie.

"Didn't realise you were going to suck my blood. You can't convert me into a poof, y'know. Pervert!" It's a friendly quip, coupled with a slightly nervous smile as Vyvyan takes the scarf he's offered and winds it snug around his neck. "I look like a right tart now. You satisfied?"

"Thoroughly."

Vyvyan's soft smile bursts into a bright clap of laughter at this and he tries to hold it in. Rick can't help it now they're talking. He simply has to know. "Are we still friends?" He blurts abruptly.

Vyvyan avoids this for the entire time it takes to lace his boots. "Uhuh." He nods once, looking up at Rick from the sofa. "Course."

"We are?"

"The way I see it, right," That stupidly sexy mouth dares to grin again, "you might get on my tits, quite a lot actually, and I might hate your guts and plan your murder sometimes.. but that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

Rick blinks, overwhelmed by this. "But you.. I.. We.. But Vyvyan, we had sex!" he says, resorting to painfully stating the obvious.

Vyvyan shoves his tshirt over his head and roughs his hair up. "I _do_ know that, Rick. I _was_ there."

"Yes, but.." he stammers - the awkward anger hanging in the air. He wants to ask Vyvyan, if he'd wanted it so badly, why didn't he say so? Why had it never happened until now? _Why did you leave me then? And why are you leaving me again? Why did you never tell me this? AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU MARRYING SOMEONE ELSE WHEN I'M STANDING RIGHT HERE?!_

The last question stuns him. He'd never thought of it before but it's exactly what he wants. He just wants Vyvyan. All of Vyvyan. Forever.

"I think it would be better if we don't mention this again." Vyvyan says, not looking up from the floor. "It was a mistake."

"Was it?" Rick instantly regrets it but it's out before he knows it. 

Vyvyan stops and leans against the doorframe, head in his hands, scrubbing his eyes with his palms. "I know I'm the one who asked to come back here. I know I started it and it's my fault. I know that. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"I'm not." As quick as lightning the words tumble out, and they're impossible to deny or take back. Rick doesn't care. He doesn't want to take them back, and he hears Vyvyan gulp from halfway across the room.

"Don't. Don't do that."

"Why?"

"Coz I - I can't, Rick. I have to go."

Vyvyan's footsteps decend quickly down the stairs as if he's running away. Rick stands still and listens to every one of them, feeling so physically and emotionally empty he can't move. He doesn’t know what he's supposed to be feeling, or what proper heartbreak is, but whatever this is isn't good. It doesn't feel good at all.

He knows that realistically they cannot be together, or have an affair - yet every thought in his head questions why, because last night had been perfect and exactly how he'd dreamed. It was exactly how it was meant to be with Vyvyan all along. There was only ever one person for him. He had always known Adrian was the substitute. Vyvyan was the real thing, and last night had confirmed it. This went deeper than a first physical attraction, and Rick had known since the second he'd seen Vyvyan with Clara that something within him was being torn to shreds, and he knew right then and there that he loved him.

Last night had also confirmed that Vyvyan was extremely attracted to him, drunk or not. And he'd thought he'd seen it sometimes, stronger on some occasions than others. 

If this was a television show he could press rewind, go back to the day that college had ended and pause it there for a while, get rid of their audience - the one day he'd been brave enough to say the impossible:

_"I suppose you fancy me, is that it?"_

_"Yes I do, Rick! I really, really fancy you, and I want to give you a big girly kiss on the bottom!"_

For Cliffs sake! How had they both so monumentally managed to cock this so unbelievably up?

He slumps around the house for most of the afternoon, no idea what to do and unable to get comfortable, settling for taking a couple of aspirin and running himself a bath: wash away all evidence of sin from his body as though he's clearing away a crime scene. His flat feels like a crime scene and looks like a rubbish dump, all takeaway wrappers and scattered bits of his torn clothes.

The bathwater is boiling yet calms and relaxes him - although it stings a bit where Vyvyan's slightly overzealous pounding had left it's mark. And there are those other scars too of course, he thinks, those left on his heart and tattooed on his brain and in his eyelids when he blinks: the image of Vyvyan on his back, pinned to the bed right before he's about to…

That face will never disappear. Rick will never be able to erase it, or forget what it feels like to make love with Vyvyan. (Too sentimental. Vyvyan would hate that!) To shag Vyvyan? (Technically untrue.) To have Vyvyan against him, skin on skin, Vyvyan's tongue gliding over his ear as he moans and floods inside him..

Rick scrubs himself clean and sticks his head under the water but nothing and no one turns him off. It's far too late for that. It's impossible to erase the punk from his head now he'd made himself at home there. They hadn't just crossed that line, Vyvyan had shagged him raw all over it. Thinking what Mike and Neil would say about it only makes things worse. Because thinking about Mike and Neil leads him to thinking about Vyvyan, and thinking about Vyvyan means,

_"Filthy mouth on you…. Tease me like that again and next time I'll have to tie you up."_

It was never going to happen again. None of it. They were never going to do it again - save for in his memories, and this time Rick holds on to the memories for dear life, clutching them to his chest, praying that this time would be different and there wouldn't have to be an end.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry this has taken so long to update. Thanks for all your lovely comments as always. Hope you're still with me :D

It's five incredibly long and boring hours until he next sees Vyvyan again (and not from his own doing) which is beginning to feel like a never-ending stretch of eternity in itself when Mike gives a shrill blast on his doorbell and lifts his letterbox, excitedly chirping through it about what sounds like another unnecessary, celebratory outing.

"Come on! Get your glad-rags on sharpish, I'm freezing my unmentionables off here! Time's ticking and I want our usual table. It's going to be great, yeah? Like last night. Like the old days."

"I think that reclaiming our old table anywhere might be a tad wishful thinking, Mike. What with it being three years and all." He cleverly quips before realising the letterbox had slammed shut again and Mike won't be able to see or hear him from up the stairs of his flat, and it's a pretty good job considering Rick is still moping around in his bed clothes.

Whatever Mike is suddenly suggesting, it doesn't matter anyway. 

Rick is definitely not going to the pub tonight!

 

~

 

How many more of these meaningless meetings will they have to endure until Rick can forget all about this - forget about Vyvyan and his upcoming nuptials, forget about the past and get on with his future.

_What future is it, though, if the love of your life isn't in it?_

"He's not the love of my life." Rick scoffs, answering his own thoughts. "I don't even like the bastard!"

"Who's not.. what? Are you going to come down and let me in or what?"

"Yes I'm coming now. I can't find my keys." It doesn't matter what excuses get fed to him this time, Rick thinks, checking the fridge and kitchen cabinets until he locates them next to an impressive mound of burgundy stained corks. It doesn't matter whether Neil's getting married to the ruddy Queen of England or Vyvyan had discovered a miraculous cure for cancer involving last nights regurgitated alcohol and a stick of ruddy dynamite! Coz he knows how persuasive Mike can be, or used to be, and no matter what he says, Rick is definitely, definitely not going to the pub tonight!

He tells his overactive imagination to stop dreaming up endless possible dreamy scenarios and shut the Cliff up!

When he next sees Vyvyan, as if they would ever run into each others arms like star crossed lovers - reunited at long last, holding each other close, blissfully snogging like the world was about to end. 

That was preposterous!

As if Vyvyan was ever going to return home after one night with Rick, break up with his fiancee and declare his undying, all-consuming, never-ending love for him.

Coz however spectacular last night had been, Rick probably wasn't _that_ good in bed...

"Hello?"

"Yes yes! Blimmin' crikey!" He folds the belt of his dressing gown in a firm knot at the waist and tackles the stairs, rubbing at his aching temples. It doesn't matter about a silly single thing anymore, he goes over the rehearsed script again, telling himself he doesn't care how much he longs to share any tiny fragment of time with Vyvyan so he can look at him one more time, for the last time. 

Coz he isn't going to put himself in that position and go through all this ungodly unpleasantness again?

Is he?

Definitely not.

Maybe.

 

~

 

He's only just beginning to come around after this hellish hangover and confused state of mind where time has no meaning, books have no words and every lyric from every song on the blasted radio was about _them._

As he glances at his watch, there's a distinct possibility that it had stopped all together; the second hand is dragging, even if his heart and pulse are beating fast enough for Rick to see it through the thin silk of his dressing gown.

A nice hot bath, more painkillers, a little light reading and a stern talking to himself whenever he found himself lapsing into another daydream about Vyvyan in his bed - which had been pretty much a constant since the bastard had got out of it this morning - and he feels human enough to face the world, even if he's no where near ready enough to face Vyvyan in it. He opens the door and smiles at his hopefully clueless friend anyway. That was quite enough fantasising for one day.

"Be a dear and refresh my memory would you, Mike? Where did we say we'd go?"

 

~

 

"The Kebab." Says Mike, looking Rick up and down, at the same time scanning the wine-stained carpet of his lounge as he makes himself at home enough to take off his sunglasses. "Don't you remember what we arranged? Blimey, you look fit for a mortuary slab. Heavy night? And what in the world has happened here? Have you been burgled?"

"No I don't remember what we arranged. But I'm going to kill the bastard that arranged it."

"It was you, actually. You suggested we meet again when we're sober. Neil woke up with the details scrawled across his chest in permanent marker."

"That wasn't me. That was, um.." He can't say it - still can't say it. It doesn't matter though; Mike is too busy laughing to listen.

"… so I thought I'd take it upon myself to rally the troops, coz Neil was worried it was a message from the ghost of his ex girlfriend."

"But she isn't dead, is she?"

"No but you know how superstitious he is. Are you sure you haven't had a break-in? Don't you work in insurance? You could make a fortune here."

"Yeah - it's not that. I just had a couple of friends over." 

"Who, The Rolling Stones?"

"Very droll, Mike! Just four of five of my rather cool and hip friends - _real_ friends. Popular guy, you see." He stumbles through, trying quickly to cover his tracks, doing a lap of the sofa and rug to collect as many clanging bottles as he can manage, hiding them behind his back to no avail. "We just had a couple of sociable and sophisticated wines, that's all." He says, wincing as he kicks and trips over the empty two litre bottle of vodka that had started this glorious mess.

 

~

 

He should have known he was never any good at sticking up for himself and standing his ground, he thinks, ripping shirt after shirt off their hangers and holding them up to the mirror, pausing at the one Vyvyan had stripped him out of last night, staring at it with fond and glassy eyes. Vyvyan always used to say he was a soft touch who followed the crowd - a sheep with absolutely no personality or mind of his own. He'd been right about that too, Rick sighs, wistfully tracing the path of what few buttons were still intact from the destruction of Vyvyan's hands.

_Oh to feel those hands on him again would be nice. More than nice. More like amazing. Absolutely amazing.._

Rick sits on his bed, pushes his face in the shirt and breathes in the unmistakable scent of sin.

He wants to shout through and ask if Vyvyan will be there tonight, now that Mike can't see his face or read his reaction and possibly catch him out. But Rick dares not speak his name. He needs to find out whether Clara would be joining them. Or if Mike had even spoken to Vyvyan at all since they'd...

_Deliciously shagged each others brains out._

"Ugh. Shut up, brain!"

"Talking to yourself again, Rick? That's the first sign of madness. You coming or what?" Mike asks with a soft knock, and Rick stands and shakes himself off, laying the soiled shirt out over his pillow. He should get it framed and preserved as some kind of trophy and precious momento, because he's sure as hell never going wear it again. "I don't want to rush you but I'm three pints behind and there's a tasty new barmaid I need to see. She doesn't know it yet but she's got my phone number all over her."

"Funny thing to say about Vyvyan's mother."

Finally saying that name sets Rick's teeth on edge, but it's all the answer he needs. 

He needs to do this. 

He needs one more look.

He doesn't say anything else, just pulls on a favourite shirt and black jeans - the ones Adrian said were so tight they were bordering on pornographic, gives himself a quick pat on the cheeks with aftershave that stings his face like acid, and then he's ready to leave the flat, with a lot more dignity than he and Vyvyan had entered it the night before, he remembers, and that makes him smile.

In fact, he remembers lots of things from the night before, vividly and in extreme detail when he allows himself to indulge. All manner of things that shouldn't still be flashing before his eyes and making his guts dance an euphoric jig all of their own. 

This needs to stop. Right now! And for once he prays for Mike to carry on wittering his usual nonsense as he ushers him outside and along the garden path. Thankfully, Mike doesn't let him down.

"Such a good night, wasn't it. It was great to have one of our old party nights. Even Neil has said so, but he also said he's taking it easy on the strawberry daiquiris this time. He didn't know they were alcoholic and what a state he was in. Unlike me, I can hold my booze."

"Yeah course you can, Mike." 

"Did you forget we were making it a weekly occurrence? Too many shandies, huh? Yeah, that'll do it. What in gawds name are you wearing? Can you actually sit down in those? Looks like they're cutting off your circulation, and you smell like a tarts handbag. Who are _you_ trying to impress?"

"Don't be silly. There's nothing - no one. Erm, it's this way." Says Rick, confused as to why they've come out of the front steps and taken a left turn instead of right. He can't be so hungover that he'd forgotten the directions to their old haunt, a mere five minutes walk around the corner.

"Nope. It's this way."

"I'm pretty sure it's not.. I'm pretty sure I know my way around by now. I'm the only one who bothered to stick around here when you lot all left me! But hey, what the hell do I know?!"

"Rick?"

"Yeah."

"Shut up."

"Right you are." 

They walk in silence, not more than a few paces before the question boils to the surface of Rick's skin and he can't help but ask. 

The anticipation is too intense. The nerves tingling the back of his neck. Jittery palpitations making his heart dangerously close to leaping out of his throat and sprinting off down the street. He can't hold it in any longer. He has to know. "So. Who's going to be there tonight?"

"I dunno really. It's been a while so I don't think they'll be any regulars. Maybe you'll know some."

 _I won't_ he thinks _because I don't go out._ "So.. Neil's coming, but he isn't drinking?" He dares to probe further. "What about the rest of us?"

"I think Neil prefers a more herbal remedy these days. But I'll have a pint or two. Maybe you should take it easy. You look green in this light."

 _That's because I need you to stop piddling around and tell me about Vyvyan!_ His mind screeches. _VYVYAN. VYVYAN. VYVYAN! Do you get it? Or would you rather I get down on my knees?!_

 _Wow_ another flashback! And this one is so clear and so lifelike and so perfect it brings Rick to a standstill and sucks the air from his lungs.

"You all right?"

"Just a bit dizzy. Can we call a taxi?"

"No need."

"Mike, I need to know if Vyvyan will be joining us later. Just so I'm prepared and ready and everything. You know we don't exactly see eye-to-eye and - it's just safer - if I know."

"I don't think he'll be joining us later.."

He doesn't know whether to be relieved that they've postponed the first sighting if this is going to be a regular thing (what he's betting has the potential to be an extremely bloody awkward first sighting) or to be disappointed that he doesn't have chance to confirm for himself that Vyvyan had meant what he'd said and he still intended to continue their friendship. 

Whichever one Rick is supposed to feel, it's decidedly the latter that he does feel, yet he can't let this disappointment show. Not to anyone. Ever. "Did he say why?"

"Coz I'm already here, ya knob! You walked right past me."

"Vyvyan, knob is, like, a totally juvenile insult. Uncool. I thought we were grown-ups now and mature."

"Knob off, Neil." 

Vyvyan grins and sticks his head out the drivers seat of his car - which is parked right next to where Rick's gaping jaw is almost certainly hitting the pavement. Mike is already in the passenger side and Neil winds up his window in the back as Rick stands there, numb and unsure what to do. 

"You getting in then?" Vyvyan asks, not looking at him. "Or are you gonna stand there all night dressed like a poof, gawping like an imbecile and smelling like a streetwalker?" 

"Y-you're actually giving me permission.. to actually get in your car?"

"It's what I said isn't it."

Vyvyan shrugs. He still doesn't make eye contact, just flicks his cigarette at Rick's feet and starts the car, impatiently revving the engine into a roar. Rick hurries around to do as he's told.

He sits quietly in the back as Mike and Neil pick up their earlier discussion about the barmaid, and he's determined not to look when Vyvyan adjusts the rear view mirror and he catches a slight flash of his immaculately gelled hair. His cheeks flush right on cue, and he can feel the blush building when he focuses on Vyvyan's hand on the gears - the veins in his forearm protruding as he forces them forward and pounds on the gas.

Rick should have known Vyvyan would drive like a demon.

And he _really_ should have known it'd be sexy as hell! 

He has to fold his arms in his lap when they fly over a speed bump and their eyes meet in the mirror. Maybe this was why he was never allowed in here before.

At first he'd felt ashamed. Ashamed of his loss of control. Ashamed of his reckless behaviour and embarrassed about the uncontrollable surge of need he'd managed to keep under wraps for years! And so ashamed that he'd done something so naughty (and filthy) with somebody else's boyfriend that he could hardly look himself in the eye. But he's looking now. Staring into the mirror. Dying for Vyvyan to look back.

_If you like me, look back._

_If you don't regret what happened between us, look back._

_If I ever meant anything at all to you, then pleeease, Vyv, for the love of Cliff, look back!_

Vyvyan doesn't look, though. They obviously have a lot of work to do to realign their unexplainable, almost psychic connection.

It had been so long since he'd allowed anyone to have control over his body like that, be it sexually or in any other physical way like a fight. And it'd been even longer since he'd gone so far as to experience an orgasm with another person.

And he'd most definitely experienced an orgasm with Vyvyan. For him. By him. On him, technically.

His responsiveness had been unexpected to say the least: last night he would have done anything - let Vyvyan do anything. But Vyvyan had said things - whispered things that were unexpected, too. Rick didn't remember exactly what the words were but he remembered how they felt against his skin, hot and urgent, panted like praise and _Mmm_ and _oh_ and _God, you're fucking amazing at that!_

There had been so much fire, like always between them, and Rick had given in completely, pouring every bit of himself out, surrendering years upon years of restraint.

Afterwards, he remembers falling asleep immediately, sweating against Vyvyan's soft chest. Maybe that was what people did after really good sex? He can hardly draw on experience, but he doesn't recall Adrian snuggling up to him for the night - both of them sticky coz neither had the energy to move. In his admittedly limited experience, sexual transactions were just that. And that had been more than satisfactory. 

Until now.

He's so confused and suddenly angered that he tuts out loud. He wouldn't feel ashamed any more.

Vyvyan had seduced him. 

That had to be it.

Vyvyan had taken everything from him and left him with nothing but the ache of these memories, and now he's more hooked than he ever thought he could be.

The insufferable, insensitive, infuriatingly gorgeous git!

The short drive is nothing but torture, and the longer it goes on, the less Rick feels able to be in the same claustrophobic confines of a car with Vyvyan, breathing the same air as him without snapping in some way: either shouting something horrifyingly unacceptable or giving in to the temptation to touch Vyvyan's shaved neck, kiss it, run his fingers through his hair. So strong is the need that his lips are prickling to make contact, or bite everyone's heads off in a sulk. Vyvyan is resolutely, most definitely not looking at him now, yet is speaking to him in laughably polite tones when prompted by the others, and Rick wants to scream.

Mike notices, of course. When Vyvyan parks the car, leaps out and slams the door, he turns to Rick and mutters, "What's going on with you two, then?"

"What!"

"Yeah. You're being weird, man. Bad vibes."

"Shut up, Neil!"

"You are!" Mike confirms. "That must be a new world record - falling out _before_ you see each other. Let's have it then. What's he done to you this time?"

 _Made me come harder than I've ever done in my life._ "NOTHING!" He says sharply, trying not to frown.

"It's just, you both seem a bit tense," says Mike, rather dubiously, and Rick doesn't answer for a long time, willing Vyvyan to come back and save him, say something. Do something! But Vyvyan has already gone inside and Rick can't think of anywhere he'd rather be.

"Nothing's the matter. Everything's fine. Let's go in and have a drink, guys. Come on."

"Well that was convincing," Mike says dryly. "You're definitely being shifty, the pair of you, but I haven't got the time nor patience to work out why."

"Don't. Please. It's fine, honestly. Let that be the end of it. We fell out, that's all, and I can't even remember what about. It was my fault, and such a silly argument. I'll make it up to him." He says, needing this to stop. He gets out too and turns away from the breeze, lighting a cigarette to cover his lies.

"Make sure you do. He's got enough on his plate right now."

 _Like what?_ He yearns to ask as the first rush of nicotine calms his head. "I will. I'll speak to him and sort it. I promise." He can't help but wonder if Mike knows something he doesn't, but looking back, wasn't that always the way.

"Well go on then. Do it now. No time like the present."


End file.
